


Strawberries Don't Grow in the Summertime

by flameofarcana



Category: Naruto
Genre: Double Penetration, Double-dicked Kisame, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sexual Content, is introspective porn a thing? thats kinda what this is, this is a little bit crack i wont even lie to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25978642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flameofarcana/pseuds/flameofarcana
Summary: Itachi and Kisame become a bit too distracted before they are summoned to another Akatsuki meeting.They make it work.
Relationships: Hoshigaki Kisame/Uchiha Itachi
Comments: 17
Kudos: 199





	Strawberries Don't Grow in the Summertime

**Author's Note:**

> Hewwo!
> 
> This scenario is uh...crack, to say the least, so I tried to smooth it over by making it as canon as I could. It's a little bit sad but not toooooo sad hehe. 
> 
> (itachi is always a little bit sad by definition)
> 
> you can blame this on the kisaita discord this idea was because of our shenanigans there hehe
> 
> the smut is a little...stiff, I will admit. it is so hard for me to write canon idk whyyyyy
> 
> enjoy!

It’s a lazy day, cold and damp. Kisame comes back from a mission just after noon to find Itachi curled up on a rock, chin tucked against his knees, high collar of his cloak wrapped around his neck. Kisame doesn’t even look like he broke a sweat with the assassination; as Itachi’s health continues to fail, every task draining him too much, every breath just a little more taxing, he envies Kisame’s effortless stamina more and more.

The clouds pinch together in the sky, murky on the edges, seeping into the empty spaces and obscuring the light so that everything is cast in gray. Kisame is casually jovial; Itachi guesses that he may be in a good mood from a good kill.

“It looks like it might rain,” he comments, small eyes focused keenly on his partner.

“Looks like.” Itachi has already sapped the heat from the rock underneath of him, and the sunlight is drying up from the air, replaced by a static chill. The tips of his fingers are going stiff with cold. He wants a hot bath. He knows he won’t get one.

Kisame has a knapsack in one hand, wide fingers bunching the fabric together. “We won’t make it to a hotel before the storm comes in.”

Itachi’s eyes flick up to meet Kisame’s. He doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll find us a place to keep cover.” Everything Kisame says is tinged with an off beat sense of humor, a joke he is sharing with himself.

He disappears for a few minutes. Itachi stares unseeing into the mesh of trees. His vision gets foggier by the day, it seems, and he is losing depth perception as the edges of colors smear and blur together. His chest burns constant, now, too, a dull groan that wears him down throughout the day and flares when he breathes in deep. His joints ache, his head throbs. He’s tired.

He knows he doesn’t have much time left.

It shouldn’t matter, it wasn’t _supposed_ to matter; Itachi laid things out so that it wouldn’t grievance anyone, so that it would be the one thing that didn’t leave him guilty.

Kisame comes back and leads him to a small caved whittled into the side of the wooded mountain range. The air is misting by the time they get there. Itachi gathers an armful of small stones and lays them in a circle, scraping the ground in the middle. Kisame dumps dry brush and stripped wood for Itachi to light on fire.

Kisame pulls his cloak off from over his head. He tosses it onto a boulder that juts out from the side of the cave wall. “I got something for you,” he says. His voice is calm and casual; he never sounds all that serious, even in the heat of battle, but Itachi can hear something under the surface.

“Why would you need to do that.” Itachi kneels next to the fire.

“I never said I needed to.” The knapsack rustles behind Itachi, and then Kisame is crouched next to him with a plastic carton of strawberries in one giant hand.

Itachi doesn’t think he would ever be able to get used to this, this unexpected _sweetness_ that outpours from Kisame like a ravine after storm. Kisame, the one who alleged to eating his own twin in the womb, Kisame who ribboned his enemies for fun and rag-dolled corpses when he was bored—for Itachi, Kisame’s touch was softer and his words were sweeter than the strawberries he placed into Itachi’s hands.

“I rinsed them for you, already.” Kisame pulls his hands back to brace them against his own jaw, cranking his head to crack his neck. “I’m never short on water, after all.”

“Considerate.” It’s the closest Itachi will give as a thanks.

The carton is small, and Itachi hasn’t eaten today, anyways. He doesn’t offer to share as he bites into the first one, sweet pink juice on his lips. It’s perfectly ripe, not too soft, not too sour.

He really does love strawberries.

The fire crackles softly in tandem with the gentle pattering of the rain that has finally started up outside. Kisame’s presence is oddly electric behind him. He is definitely in a good mood.

When Itachi finishes the strawberries, he turns to hand back the carton, green stems clinging to pink flesh.

Kisame’s eyes are as intent as if he was about to slit his throat. 

Itachi pauses, hand dropping a little.

“You didn’t share,” Kisame says, a grin trying to take hold of his face again.

Itachi doesn’t waver his gaze. “You didn’t ask.”

Kisame tilts his head with a chuckle. “I still think I deserve a taste.”

Itachi supposes that he should have known what Kisame was getting at. A satisfying kill always gets Kisame—excited. He ends up wanting to take that _excitement_ out on Itachi. He lets Kisame’s rough palms slide against his jaw and tilt his head back. His thumbs dig into the soft underside of Itachi’s chin where his throat slopes up.

Itachi catches the grin that splits his face before he ducks down to kiss him.

His lips and tongue are demanding. He licks into Itachi’s mouth, pressing as close as possible, his fingers locking Itachi’s head and neck in place. It’s noisy, animalistic almost. He bites at Itachi’s lips until they are swollen, then leans back and admires the way they look, red and slick with his spit.

“Do I taste like strawberries?” Itachi asks, quiet and out of breath.

“You taste amazing,” Kisame mutters, leaning back in. His hand softens for just a second where it is curled around the back of Itachi’s. He kisses him rough, wet, and open mouthed.

Kisame always wants to kiss him so much.

Kisame wants to cradle his face and sink his fingers into his hair, Kisame wants to stroke his skin and exchange body heat. Itachi _wishes_ Kisame would just fuck him feral and drop him in the corner for a change. At least he knew that. At least he knew what it meant to be used and discarded; _that_ he could compartmentalize and ignore. But for all of Kisame’s blatant honesty, there’s always something _more_ when it comes to him.

Itachi knows that Kisame is in love with him.

Kisame yanks on Itachi’s hair tie, ripping it out and a few strands of hair with it. It hurts, but in Kisame’s defense, he is being the most careful he knows how. Itachi doesn’t think that Kisame has ever considered being gentle until him.

Kisame’s hands are greedy as they slip under his shirt. Itachi ignores Kisame’s grimace when he feels the outline of his ribs stretching up under his skin. He squeezes at Itachi’s hips and ass through his pants; with a low, quiet growl, he pulls Itachi’s shirt over his head.

It’s cold, of course, with the rain falling quietly outside, and the air perks Itachi’s nipples. His mesh armor clatters against itself and the ground; his pants are tossed aside next, and then his underwear, until he is naked for Kisame’s eyes and hands to rove.

Kisame’s grin isn’t there, but his _eyes_ are so predatory that for a moment Itachi thinks he can understand what it feels like to stare down the sharingan.

Itachi is unreasonably attracted to Kisame’s body. It’s all hard muscle, toned stomach and arms and thighs. He’s roguishly handsome in a sharp, weathered kind of way, and it makes Itachi weak in the knees against his own wishes. He reaches forward and yanks his partner’s pants down, no fanfare; Kisame is already half hard in both of his cocks. Itachi slips his fingers around the top one, stroking gently.

Kisame grunts and reaches around, groping Itachi’s ass and pulling him forward. He slips Itachi’s cock between both of his, wraps his fingers around them and rubs his thumb against warm skin. Itachi pulls on his shirt until Kisame’s chest is under his cold fingers; his skin has scars all over it, since Kisame loves physical combat and does not shy away from a slash here and there. Itachi traces his fingers over them as Kisame jacks him off between his two cocks. His ears start to flush hot. He meets Kisame’s eyes for a moment, and then he _scratches_ his nails down Kisame’s chest.

Kisame _grins_ , faint purple welts following the trails of Itachi’s fingernails

Itachi turns around. They always do it this way, from behind, impersonal and disconnected. It’s _good_ , though, the way Kisame can sink into him deep enough for roll his eyes into the back of his skull, the way he can fuck into him so rough and hard and fast. It feels _good_ , and so Kisame has stopped trying to paw him around to see his face while they do it, has stopped trying to coax him on top or into his arms. Kisame wants more—Kisame wants things that Itachi won’t give. Luckily for both of them, he resigns easily and doesn’t complain much, takes what he can gets and doesn’t ask for more.

The view of Itachi’s lithe body bent over, split open and full of him is too good to pass up, anyways.

The sound of breathing is now loud in the cave. Itachi can’t help it, especially not since Kisame’s skin is vaguely rough and feels _wonderful_ on his dick. Both of Kisame’s are sliding between his thighs. One of Kisame’s hands pushes up Itachi’s back; his skin bumps and shivers. Kisame slips it around and curls around his throat until Itachi drops his head back onto his shoulder, and he feels his fingers press down one by one into his soft flesh. Then, all of the sudden, Kisame jerks his hand up and covers Itachi’s eyes with his broad palm.

It’s the one thing that send every cell in Itachi’s body to rapt attention. His _eyes_ cannot be touched; they can’t be damaged because he has to pass them off, soon. His sight can’t be stifled because it’s his only way to protect himself as his body comes to a creaky close.

He reaches back and digs his blunt nails into Kisame’s hip. He draws blood so Kisame knows that he is serious; it only excites Kisame more, and Kisame groans. He tightens his grip over Itachi’s eyes.

Itachi’s heart is racing.

But despite it all, sex still feeling foreign and undefined, not knowing if he really knows how to love or be loved anymore—Itachi still trusts Kisame more than anything in the world, so he leans back into Kisame’s broad, warm chest. Kisame grunts, fingers tightening against his forehead. He starts to rut against Itachi, his bottom cock sliding between Itachi’s cheeks. His right hand drops to curl around Itachi’s thigh, pulling his legs farther apart and jamming his knee between them.

With one hand still on Itachi’s eyes and the other on his thigh, one thumb absently stroking his skin, he can’t continue to jerk him off. His thigh, though, is a generous and warm offering for Itachi to grind down on. He grabs onto Kisame’s wrist with one hand, his arm with the other.

“Someone is acting in the mood all of the sudden,” Kisame chuckles, jerking his hips just enough to tease the tip of his cock against Itachi’s hole.

“Do you not want me to be?” Itachi asks, voice level.

Kisame growls. “I want you to beg for me to fuck you.”

Itachi snorts quietly. “Do not hold your breath on that one.”

“I won’t,” Kisame says with a good-natured chuckle, “but I will fuck you until you scream with that pretty, calm little voice of yours.”

With his eyesight gone, Itachi is worse at maintaining composure, more reactive, and his fingers tighten around Kisame’s wrist, breath hitching in his lungs. Kisame senses it and presses a grin into Itachi’s hair. “Does that sound like a good idea, Itachi-san?” His hand slips off of Itachi’s thigh. Itachi hears the rustle of the knapsack again, and then a clicking sound.

“You took time out of the mission to buy lube?” he asks. His answer is a thick finger shoved into him. He furrows his brow but does not react more visibly, does not make any noises. He bends over, pressing his hands against the rocks in front of him.

“Giving me such a nice view, Itachi-san,” Kisame grunts, thrusting his finger in a few times. He pulls Itachi’s ass up more so he can see his finger slide in. He adds a second one, and Itachi feels himself stretch. It isn’t anything compared to Kisame’s dick, no, but his fingers are thick enough that Kisame has used just them to fuck him before; it was one of the only times that Itachi took it while lying on his back, warmed by a flickering fire in the middle of a forest, Kisame looming over him and drinking up the expressions on his face while fingering him until he came.

Kisame finger fucks him for several minutes, breathing heavy, humming appreciatively. He is taking his time to savor it, enjoy every aspect of the process. Itachi keeps his teeth locked together, breathing even, determined to not make a sound. Kisame’s fingers, thick and rough, pry him open. It’s arousing enough to keep his cock hard, wet at the very tip, and he wants Kisame’s hands back on it.

Eventually, Itachi hears more rustling. His fingers stiffen on the rocks in front of him as preparation. Then, Kisame’s hands shift, one tight on his hip, and he nudges against his opening.

Everything inside Itachi’s brain shuts off as Kisame slides into him.

Itachi isn’t always even sure why he gives into sleeping with Kisame. It is excruciatingly physically enjoyable, a type of pleasure he didn’t even know he could get. He worked his whole life to have such a perfect control of himself, yet Kisame and his hands, mouth, tongue and teeth and lips and _cocks_ bring out noises and reactions that mortify him.

Maybe it’s the fact that Kisame fucks all the common sense out of him. Maybe it’s the fact that the only break Itachi gets from forming a coherent thought is when Kisame is eight inches inside of him. The better part of Itachi’s brain tells him not to keep falling back into Kisame’s arms— _you’re getting attached,_ he _is getting attached, you’re making yourself to vulnerable, you don’t deserve the pleasure_ —yet he finds himself underneath his massive, vicious partner more often than he likes to admit.

Kisame grunts and rolls his hips forward. He runs a hand down Itachi’s back, fingers tracing each bump of his spine. “I’m going to get you to eat more, one of these days,” Kisame says, drawing out halfway, “put some meat on your bones.”

“You put plenty of meat on me.”

Kisame guffaws behind him. He bends over Itachi’s back and kisses his shoulder.

Itachi hates it. It’s too sweet, too soft. It makes his heart pang. He hates it because he likes it and he doesn’t want to.

Kisame thrusts roughly; his gentleness only extends so far, and something about him today is particularly uninhibited.

He rocks forward, shoving himself into Itachi, groaning low and quiet in the back of his throat. His fingers dig bruises into the skin on Itachi’s hips. Itachi is hot and tight around him—a little too tight, he could have used a bit more stretching, and it hurts some.

Itachi likes the pain.

The sound of Kisame’s thighs slapping the back of Itachi’s ass drowns out the sounds of rain. Itachi bites his lips to keep his noises to a minimum, but the longer it goes on, the more he forgets to keep quiet, the more he _can’t_ keep quiet, and groans start spilling out of his mouth and onto the boulder.

Kisame’s bottom dick slides between Itachi’s thighs as his top one fucks him. The feeling makes Itachi tighten his legs together. Kisame chuckles.

“You like that, Itachi-san?” He picks up the speed of his thrusting. “Should I put the second one in you, too?” One hand slips around his hip, dips down and brushes against the inside of his thigh. It isn’t quite enough; Kisame is teasing him.

Itachi avoids the question. “You’re in a very good mood, today,” Itachi breathes, digging his fingers onto the rocks to keep his voice steady. “It must have been a pleasant mission.”

“It was an excellent kill,” Kisame says. Itachi can hear the grin. “Samehada shredded him like cabbage.” The happy leer in his voice increases with the reference to Itachi’s favorite food.

Itachi feels so full and stretched out; every thrust feels like it splits him deeper. He bites on his lower lip for a moment, head going dizzy from feeling Kisame’s _second_ cock rub along his sac.

“He was a bleeder, too,” Kisame grunts. His hips jerk, movements sloppier as excitement from his bloodlust starts to fill him again. “He covered the ground in it—his guts spilled all over the ground. I got it on my shoes and everything.”

Itachi knows that he should be repulsed at his partners overt violence. He isn’t.

Kisame trades his hips for his ass, grabbing two handfuls and pulling his cheeks apart to watch himself slide in. “I never would have guessed that you could take me so well.” He sinks in until he is completely flush with the back of Itachi’s thighs. Itachi groans, his back tensing. “I never would’ve guessed that you’d like it so much, either.”

Itachi would have never guessed, too.

Kisame folds forward, hips still rocking into him. He grabs Itachi’s dick with one hand and starts to stroke toward the tip. Itachi tightens up, breath catching. Kisame’s brow furrows, the movement making it feel like Itachi is sucking him up, and he squeezes. Itachi twitches under him.

Kisame nudges the side of Itachi’s neck with his nose, getting his skin in the open so he can _bite_ into it. Itachi lets out a shaky breath. Kisame slams his hips forward, causing Itachi’s entire body to rock forward, deep enough inside of him that his eyes roll into the back of his head. He grips the back of Itachi’s thigh, squeezes tight, and shoves his leg up roughly. Itachi’s bent knee jams against the boulder; he feels his skin scrape.

The angle opens him up even better for Kisame to fuck into him. He groans, dropping his head down. Kisame pauses to grab the lube again; he pulls out and squirts more onto his cock before slamming back in. It sounds _wet_ now as it collects on Itachi’s ass and runs down his thighs. Kisame’s head falls backwards, grinding against Itachi’s ass.

He shifts Itachi up, just a bit, shoving his leg even farther, and then Itachi _gasps_ , fingers clawing up on the rocks until dirt gets stuck under his nails.

“Oh? Is that it?” Kisame is grinning again, and he changes his thrusts to be sharp, angled, _precise_ , hitting that spot until Itachi can barely remember to breathe. He certainly can’t remember all those wishes to stay quiet, and so he focuses on Kisame’s grunts and growls behind him so he doesn’t have to hear himself whine.

Kisame folds himself back over Itachi’s back, bites the top of his shoulder, fucks with short, rough movements of his hips. He reaches forward and grabs Itachi’s hand; Itachi finally has something to find purchase on and he _squeezes_ , eyes screwed shut, mouth open and drooling against the rock.

Kisame pauses all of the sudden. He splays his hands on Itachi’s back. They’re so big that they can expand from end to end when he spreads his fingers out. “Itachi-san,” he says. His voice is friendly, polite.

Itachi’s eyelashes flutter.

“Itachi-san,” Kisame continues, “you didn’t answer my question.”

Itachi resists the urge to push back against Kisame and fill himself again. He wants the _movement_ back, he wants Kisame _deeper_ again. “And what was that?”

“Do you want both?”

Itachi goes still underneath of him. He pants against the rock, licking his lips and realizing how much he has been drooling. He doesn’t say anything for a second.

Kisame chuckles. “You would look pretty good with all of me in you,” he leers. “It would probably feel better than anything we’ve done. For both of us.” He draws out real slow, watching, and then shoves in roughly. “Do you think you can take it, Itachi-san?”

Itachi swallows. He squeezes his eyes shut. He tells himself to say no, but instead finds the words, “do you?”

It’s like he can feel Kisame’s energy change behind him.

There’s another finger in him before he can even think about it. That addition alone feels like it is going to be enough to break him. If he was a different man he might back out, but he isn’t, and part of him _really_ wants to know how good two cocks will feel up his ass.

Kisame rocks his hips slowly, pushing back in with his cock and adding another still finger. Itachi groans at the second one, fingernails scraping the rocks until he feels one of them crack. He feels more slick lube against his hole as Kisame stretches him out.

Kisame’s voice is a never-ending stream of grunting, groaning, and heavy breathing. He keeps his thrusting shallow—Itachi probably can’t handle much more, and they both know it. “Very good,” Kisame chuckles.

Itachi’s mouth falls open at the praise. He whines. He pushes back. It’s just all too fucking _much_.

The third finger makes Itachi seize up, pain shooting through his back. It hurts, but Kisame doesn’t take it out, and instead just lets him adjust and get used to the new girth.

There isn’t a thought in Itachi’s head.

“Brace yourself, Itachi-san.”

Kisame’s second cockhead presses against his opening. It’s well slicked, but still doesn’t fit immediately. Kisame pulls halfway out with his buried cock to try and allow more room, pushing forward with his second one. “Flatten your back, Itachi-san,” Kisame breathes. His voice is choked off, strained. He’s using a lot of effort to keep himself from shoving in all the way, desperate to get both of his cocks surrounded with that _heat_ , with that _tightness_. The only reason he doesn’t is because he knows it will hurt Itachi.

Itachi realizes how loud he is panting, that he has arched off of the rock. He swallows, trying to control himself, and straightens his spine, relaxing back down. He folds his arms and buries his face between them.

Kisame pushes forward again. His second cockhead slides in, tight, squeezing against his already inserted dick. He pushes forward more.

“Kisame,” Itachi groans. The word leaves his mouth before he can think about what he is saying; he doesn’t even realize it after he has said it, just says it again. “ _Kisame_.”

Kisame pants. His fingers brush against Itachi’s hips, a surprisingly gentle comparison to the fierce nature of his fucking. “Are you okay?”

Itachi nods. He doesn’t speak, just grinds his forehead against his arms.

Kisame slides forward just a little bit more, until he’s about halfway in. Itachi chokes, tenses. The muscles in his back are starting to ache from flexing for so long. Kisame rubs his hand across Itachi’s ass cheek and thigh, soothing as he lets Itachi adjust some more. He reaches around and takes Itachi’s cock in his hand and starts to tug on it.

Itachi huffs, eyes screwed shut, and clenches.

Kisame hisses and says, “Ah, Itachi-san, you can’t do that.”

Itachi’s eyelids flutter as Kisame’s hand starts to move again. His grip is tight around his dick. He slides it up to thumb at the tip and rub underneath the head. He presses his thumb against the tip, feeling the dampness, and rubs down until Itachi keens in his low voice.

He pleasures Itachi with his hands and continues to press in slowly, bit by bit. It’s _impossibly_ tight, and a feral heat inside of him wants to _fuck_. His head falls backward, lips parted, and mumbles Itachi’s name. It’s lost in a roll of thunder, so Itachi can’t hear that he left off the honorific.

It’s too tight to thrust properly, but being double stuffed is still enough for Itachi’s eyes to roll into the back of his head. The fullness puts some dull pressure against his prostate, a light buzz that leaves him wanting _more_. He wants to ask Kisame to pull out and use one again—not because he can’t take it, because he _is_ taking it, but because he’s so worked up, head full of thinking about getting railed until he can’t speak, that this just feels like teasing, impossibly full as he is. He wants Kisame to be able to fuck him as hard as he can. He wants Kisame to drag him to the floor and press his face onto the dirt so Itachi will finally be quiet. He wants to push _Kisame_ to the ground and climb on top so he can ride him and get the movement back that he feels like he is going crazy without.

“Fuck me,” he groans, not able to help himself.

“Is this not enough for you? I don’t think you can get anymore than what I’m giving you.”

Itachi _agrees._

Kisame swallows, thumb rubbing into Itachi’s skin. A flash of lightning lights up the cave. The smell of the storm is nice, and the cool air feels good on his excited skin. Kisame turns to look out of the cave opening.

“Uh, oh,” Kisame says. He pauses. “That isn’t good, Itachi-san.”

Itachi blinks, tilting his head to the side so he can see. Half of his face is still pressed against his arm. “What?” He’s one step away from delirious, and not sure than he can form a complete sentence.

He looks out the cave opening.

The horizon just over the hilltops is alight.

“ _Oh_ ,” Itachi gasps, head spinning. He immediately tenses, and Kisame hisses.

“You really need to not do that,” he grits between his teeth.

“We will be late,” Itachi says between heavy breaths.

“Let Leader wait, then.”

With a tiny thrust Itachi’s face pinches, and he grunts. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

Kisame licks his lips, pushing in just a bit more, watching Itachi convulse again. “There’s nothing I would trade this for.”

The light in the sky flickers, then, growing brighter, and they both know that waiting until they are finished won’t be an option, especially since neither of them are anywhere near being done.

“Let’s go, then,” Kisame breathes, taking his hands off of Itachi’s hips to make the appropriate hand sign.

“Pull _out_ of me,” Itachi groans. He can’t even pull away because of the rock in front of him.

“We aren’t going to get them both back in, Itachi-san, if I pull out now.” His hips are almost flush against Itachi’s ass. “We’ll just have to pause.”

“Kisame, we can’t.”

Kisame shrugs. “They won’t be able to see what position we are in here. Are you telling me you can’t do it?”

Itachi grits his teeth. His eyes fall closed for a moment as he considers. After a moment he gives in, realizing he doesn’t have enough wits about him to argue and doesn’t have enough time to find another option. He props himself up on his elbows so he can make the hand sign.

In the next moment, he is standing in a large, empty cavern, the multicolored shadows of his criminal comrades flickering in their circle.

“You’re late.” Pein’s deep voice fills the cave.

“Sorry about that.” Kisame’s white grin is the most prominent part of his projection. “My mission ran a little longer than I was expecting. Itachi-san went looking for me to make sure that I was alright.”

Pein doesn’t respond.

It’s good that Itachi has built a silent reputation. He can feel Kisame so fucking deep inside of him still. He is so unbelievably full that it takes every shred of control he has to keep his composure. If he has to speak, he doesn’t know how his voice will sound. He’s barely able to hold the jutsu as it is.

It’s a strange feeling. He’s in the meeting room, standing around a single flickering stone lantern. He can see Zetsu, Pein and Konan, Tobi, whoever he really is—and yet all he can feel is Kisame eight inches inside him two times over. He can feel the ghost of Kisame’s fingers caressing his hips and waist. And then, worse, he can feel Kisame’s lips pressing into his neck, shoulders, hair. Maybe Kisame doesn’t realize he can feel it, maybe that’s why Kisame starts to stroke his skin and nuzzle into his hair. Its more tender than they ever allow themselves to be. Well, it’s more tender than Itachi ever allows them to be.

He _can_ feel it, though, and when Kisame shifts forward to kiss his cheek, it breaks his control and he exhales sharply.

Pein stops what he is saying. His purple, ringed eyes flick to Itachi. “Is there somewhere more important for you to be?”

Itachi stares him down.

Kisame chuckles next to him. “Itachi has had a long day, that’s all. I’m sure we are all a little worn out.”

“What, can’t speak for himself?” Deidara spits from where he stands. “And here I thought he was supposed to be so strong. Can’t maintain a projection jutsu and speak at the same time, huh?”

Itachi wants to roll his eyes.

“Ooh, you’re gonna make him mad!” Tobi says next to him. “Wasn’t losing to Itachi once enough for you, Deidara-senpai?”

“Shut the fuck up, Tobi!” Deidara growls.

Itachi hears Kisame laugh, but it isn’t from this projection. He’s laughing back in the cave.

Kisame has so much chakra that he can maintain the jutsu and operate back in the physical just fine. Itachi, on the other hand, can do no such thing, and is completely frozen. He also doesn’t have enough chakra (and maybe more importantly enough control over himself at the moment) to keep the sensations happening to his body contained.

“He’s mad now!” Tobi’s voice is excited. “Careful, he’s going to blow!”

“I’ll show you an explosion—”

“That’s enough, Deidara,” Pein commands. He signs audibly. “Tobi, you be quiet, too. This is important.”

Deidara is still fuming. “Not important enough for Itachi, though, huh? Is that right, Uchiha?”

Itachi looks over at Konan. She is completely still, absolutely quiet. She doesn’t look the least bit engaged or invested.

Itachi always liked Konan.

“Is there something you need to say, Itachi?” Pein asks.

“No.”

Kisame grins beside him.

“Can we hurry it up?” Tobi asks. He pushes his hands in front of his crotch. “Tobi needs to go potty!”

Deidara snorts.

Itachi feels Kisame’s hands dip between his thighs. He grits his teeth.

“We need to speed up our capture of the tailed beasts,” Pein announces. “The loss of Kakuzu, Hidan, and Sasori has set us back. The nine-tails jinchuriki has grown much stronger since the first attempt at capturing him, and we think I might pose a greater threat than we previously accounted for.”

“Konoha has caused quite the problem for us, haven’t they?” Kisame says. “Between the zombie pair and Sasori, they’ve eliminated three Akatsuki members all on their own.”

“Konoha will be dealt with,” Pein says with finality.

“Why haven’t the two of you gotten the nine-tails, huh?” Deidara taunts toward Kisame. “Even I managed to get the one-tails.”

Kisame laughs. “You just insulted yourself, kid.” His beady white eyes bore into him.

Deidara’s lips curl up in a snarl. “That isn’t what I meant! You’re the tailless tailed beast, they say. It should be easy for you!”

“I captured the four-tailed jinchuriki just fine, didn’t I?” Kisame grins. “You couldn’t even grab the one-tailed jinchuriki without getting your partner killed by a grandma and a medic and both your arms ripped off.”

Both of his hands fist, the hair on his head practically standing up. “You piece of—”

“Stop bickering, both of you.” Pein’s voice booms in the room. “The capture of the nine-tails jinchuriki will be left to Itachi and Kisame. Do not forget, it was the overextension into Konoha’s affairs that got Kakuzu and Hidan killed.”

Deidara huffs. “Wouldn’t it make sense to use more of us if they’re so strong?”

“Not necessarily,” the black half of Zetsu speaks up. “Konoha is organized and they communicate well amongst their shinobi. They always come to the defense of their allies, even at a moment’s notice. It is not a matter of outnumbering them, but out performing them. Itachi is the only one who understands Konoha well, and can counter how they operate.”

“Itachi and Kisame function well together. Extra members will weigh them down,” Pein affirms.

The back of Itachi’s mind is still in the middle of getting the life fucked out of him, but he needs to assert his claim over the capture of the nine-tails, since Naruto’s protection was his duty, as well. He says, “We will take care of it.”

He knows that he will be long dead before the subject can be brought up again. Jiraiya, his informant after Hiruzen’s death, has died, too. Itachi’s role in the Akatsuki is nearly fulfilled, and he has confidence that Naruto won’t fall to them, especially not after Sasuke gets his revenge and returns to Konoha.

“We have a plan,” Kisame adds casually, voice humorous. Itachi can tell he is absolutely loving the situation.

Pein continues talking, but Itachi isn’t paying attention again. Kisame is kissing up and down his neck, hands pressed to his waist.

Itachi’s face stays blank. He’s _tired_ of this meeting. Its irritating, and pointless, and Itachi is fundamentally sure that this lopsided, misdirected organization won’t be able to gather all of the tailed beasts, much less do anything with them. The only worthwhile thing the Akatsuki has done is let him meet Kisame, and right now all he wants to do is be back in the cave with him _alone_.

Kisame thrusts once, shallow. Itachi can’t feel it all the way; it feels like he is being fucked while numb. It’s a phantom sensation, so it isn’t enough to break his concertation _all_ the way, but it is enough to cloud his brain and make his ears ring. He slips partially out of the projection, Pein’s words distorting.

He can’t make his body speak without his projection speaking, too, so he can’t scold Kisame.

He is one hundred percent, entirely at Kisame’s disposal.

He will not admit it, not till the day Sasuke strikes him dead, but he _likes it_. It helps that he trusts Kisame more than anyone since Shisui, it helps that Kisame, despite being able to snap him in half, has never touched a hair on his head with menace, it helps that Kisame is completely, helplessly devoted and in love with him. Kisame could do anything to him, probably, and Itachi would like it just because Kisame was the one doing it to him.

 _Then_ Kisame’s calloused hands trail down his stomach and grab him by the dick. He squeezes as he strokes up, and when he shifts his hips his cock slides against Itachi’s spot and—

Itachi’s jutsu breaks.

His projection flickers out of the room, leaving a blank spot where he stood.

The meeting room is silent.

He is suddenly in the cave, bent over the boulder, thunder booming. The feeling of being double stuffed hits him like a wall after the sensation being dulled.

Itachi gasps, bearing down hard on Kisame’s cocks, scrambling for purchase with his fingers. He reaches around and digs into Kisame’s arms until he feels the wetness of blood. He knows it won’t upset Kisame—no, it will excite him, in truth, but he does it anyways. He takes just one breath to steady himself, and then he recasts the jutsu and is back in the meeting.

Everyone is looking at him.

Itachi’s knees feel weak. He feels like he is about to cum, or split completely in two—he can’t even tell the difference anymore.

“Itachi?” Pein prompts.

“I think the lightning scared him,” Kisame helpfully suggests.

Itachi squeezes as hard as he can.

He hears him hiss and groan back in the cave.

“He’s too good for us,” Deidara sneers, “he can’t even last a single meeting without rubbing it in.”

There is too much going on in Itachi’s head to deal with Deidara’s bratty nonsense today. He wants to tell him that he is more than happy to wipe the floor with him again, but he wouldn’t even if he could find the brain power to say that many words.

The other members seem to understand he won’t be explaining himself, and they move on.

Kisame’s hands are running all over his naked body in a way he normally never does. He’s kissing his shoulders and the back of his neck. On top of everything, it’s throwing it off, and Itachi physically cannot handle it combined with taking two cocks.

 _Finally_ the meeting ends. Itachi doesn’t even know how it ended; it’s okay, Kisame will fill him in later.

Itachi breaks the jutsu, slamming back into reality. He gasps again in the cave, the feeling of Kisame inside of him smacking him in full force. Kisame is gripping onto him tightly, one arm banded around his chest and holding him against him, the other hand falling down to grab Itachi’s dick.

Itachi squirms in Kisame’s arms, face pinched. He’s light headed, now, his vision spotting with fuzzy black, and he doesn’t think he’s been breathing deeply enough. His chest is starting to burn. Kisame slides in further by a hair, pushing Itachi’s hips down; he rubs against Itachi _there,_ and combined with the hand on his dick, Itachi can’t take it anymore.

His orgasm rocks him so hard that he doesn’t even hear himself moan Kisame’s name. His fingernails claw into Kisame’s arms. He feels like he is splitting apart.

He hears Kisame curse and moan behind him, so he thinks that he has come, too; he can’t be sure, because then his ears start to ring, body going limp. He slumps forward against the rock.

“Itachi-san.” He hears Kisame’s murky voice through the fog in his ears. “Itachi-san? Hey, hey, breathe for me.”

Itachi feels his body tilt. Kisame pulls him into his arms, lifting him off of the rock and wrapping him in his cloak. Itachi blinks as his vision swims back to him; he feels the warmth of the fire, Kisame’s steel arms cradling him.

“Are you okay?” Kisame’s voice is beyond earnest, and when Itachi can see clearly again, Kisame’s eyes burn into his. His face, only a few inches away from him, is pinched in concern.

Itachi blinks a few times. He shifts in Kisame’s arms; Kisame doesn’t let him go, but instead shifts so he is more comfortable. “I think I mismanaged my chakra during the meeting.”

Kisame grins down at him. “That, or I just fuck you that good.”

Itachi snorts, letting his eyes close. “Sure. Go with that.”

Kisame chuckles quietly. One hand strokes Itachi’s cheek, the other clutches his waist, thumb tracing absent patterns into his warm skin. He leans down and kisses the top of Itachi’s head.

And this, Itachi thinks, head lolling on Kisame’s shoulder, is the problem.

Kisame being a murderous, ruthless rogue who specialized in killing his own comrades without conscious was the best partner Itachi could have wished for. He has never minded having to watch his back—he isn’t scared of Kisame and never has been.

Having a partner that doesn’t care about anything but killing meant that there was no room to get _attached_ , on either end. And yet Itachi wanted the closeness that he endlessly denied himself. For all of the things he had done and all of the prices he had to pay, _loneliness_ didn’t seem like it was worth mentioning.

Kisame is attached like a barnacle to a dilapidating pier. He talks about them still being partners months and months from now when Itachi knows he will be rotting in the ground much sooner. Part of Itachi’s carefully mapped out plan accounted for no one missing him in death.

Itachi is beginning to understand how deeply he will be missed, after all.

Itachi’s body is humming so pleasantly that he doesn’t have the willpower to push himself out of Kisame’s arms. Kisame is holding himself like he is—precious. Irreplaceable.

Loved.

Itachi swallows, pushing himself up into more of a sitting position. Kisame doesn’t take his hands off of him completely. Itachi runs his hands through his hair a few times. Thunder rumbles outside of the cave.

Kisame watches him with sharp eyes.

He pauses. “You said my name.”

Itachi continues finger combing. “Did I?”

Kisame presses his palm to Itachi’s cheek. He only leaves it there for a second before dropping his hand. “You did.” His voice is as quiet as Itachi has ever heard it. “More than once.”

Kisame always says _Itachi-san_ while they have sex; Itachi has never said Kisame’s before.

Itachi clears his throat. “And you lied for me.”

Kisame looks at him.

“The mission ran long?” Itachi arches an eyebrow, tugging his cloak around him. He wants to get dressed, but he’s almost entirely sure he won’t be able to walk.

Kisame shrugs one shoulder. He lets Itachi slip out of his grasp and readjusts himself so they are sitting next to each other. He doesn’t say anything.

Itachi is quiet; he fiddles with the ends of his hair. They’re split. “Can you get for me my clothes, Kisame?”

Kisame grunts. He stands up, naked body chiseled, and collects Itachi’s clothes off of the floor. He places them next to him.

Itachi dresses quietly as he listens to the rain. It’s getting heavier. “We are going to be here for a while, it seems.”

Kisame hums. “I have enough extra fire wood. We’ll be fine.”

“Have you eaten?”

He chuckles. “I will be fine, Itachi-san.” He locates Itachi’s hairband from where it was tossed and kneels behind him.

“I can do it myself,” Itachi says softly, reaching for it.

“Let me do it,” Kisame grunts. He gathers Itachi’s hair in his large fingers; he’s clumsy, and the pony tail ends up messy and straggling. He redoes it twice.

Itachi stares into the glow of the fire until the light smears stains across his vision. “You should buy strawberries again next time you see them.” The feeling of Kisame’s fingers on his scalp is soothing.

“Yeah?” Kisame chuckles again. “They will be hard to find. It’s almost July. Strawberries only grow in late spring.”

“I didn’t take you as a horticulturist.” Itachi closes his eyes as he feels Kisame tug on the hairband.

“I’m a man of many talents, Itachi-san.” He finishes his work and stands up. “Raspberries will be in season, though. Do you like those?”

The fire glows warm on his face. Itachi shifts the red-cloud cloak around his shoulders to shield himself from the chill that wafts off of the rain. “They’re alright.”

“Well, we can make do with them for now, right?” Itachi hears the rustle of Kisame’s clothes behind him. “We’ll be sure to stock up on strawberries next year.”

Kisame doesn’t realize that Itachi won’t be alive for more than a few months.

With his back to him, where he can’t see it, Itachi smiles.

“Next year, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> My lovely wallflower drew some art that inspired the beginning of the smut! Go look at it here! https://twitter.com/RandoWallFlower/status/1277767934266486784?s=20
> 
> my twitter is @ hausofitachi feel free to comeeeee say hi or follow or whatever !!
> 
> also!! if you are interested in being in the kisaita discord dm me on twitter! it's 18+ but a very fun (horny) place to hang out if you want :)
> 
> love you see you next timeeee!!!


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